


Day 3 & 4: While Leader

by fascinationex



Series: MEGASTAR-MAS 2020 [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Megatron, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Mean Dirty Talk, Mild Humiliation, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, megastarmas 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex
Summary: In which Starscream is in charge.
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream (Transformers)
Series: MEGASTAR-MAS 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072040
Comments: 24
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> #### content note
> 
> This fic is separated out into two separate chapters (for two separate megastar-mas days). This has been done very intentionally, so the reader can pick how they read it.
> 
> 1\. The first chapter reads as basically a straightforward kinky non-con fantasy. It can be read alone. This is why the archive noncon/rape warning is on this fic.  
> 2\. The second chapter is shorter but much more focused on checking in, aftercare, etc., and if you would like to read this fic as though it is more like consensual non-consent, then I would suggest waiting until the second chapter is posted (this will be only one day after this first chapter).  
> 3\. If you do not want to read anything that includes "consent question marks", I suggest you skip this fic completely. There will be other fics! :)
> 
> I also do not make any representation that either chapter will make you personally feel like a particular moral imperative or good kink practice was followed here. My fic is not intended to be in any way instructive. 
> 
> This warning is probably a lot more dramatic and scary than this fic actually warrants, but I would hate to take anyone by surprise. 
> 
> Thanks!

Megatron came online when Starscream manually unlached his valve panel.

He jerked, disoriented, and tried to close his thighs. They did not move. Neither did the rest of him. 

"What—" 

"Oh, you're awake," Starscream said pleasantly, as though he didn't have his fingers under Megatron's modesty plating. "Finally. I was beginning to worry you'd be offline all day." 

"Starscream," said Megatron, focusing his optics at last. "What is the meaning of this?" 

"Nothing much," Starscream said breezily. "I just thought it was time I got a look under here—don't you?" 

From his light tone, Megatron inferred that he was relishing the sheer _obscenity_ of it. 

Megatron had fragged Starscream, of course, many times—but he didn't allow him _this_. Megatron was certainly not a mewling valve mech. He was a Decepticon warrior. And, most importantly, he was _in charge_. 

Commanders did not _present their valves_ to subordinates. The very idea was absurd. 

Which meant Megatron did not present his valve to anyone. 

"Do you think, if I stick my fingers in here, I’ll find loose change? Perhaps rust?" Starscream laughed, rubbing his thumb up the delicate mesh of the opening. 

Megatron tensed—that was _sensitive_ —and snarled. "Release me, Starscream, or suffer the consequences." 

"What consequences do you imagine those to be, _my lord_?" 

It was true that he didn't seem to be able to free himself. His bonds were tight, allowing only a small amount of wiggle room. He was straddling a padded bench, arms stretched taut above. If he'd been able to stand, he might have eased the pressure on his strained shoulder joints, but his legs were tied too tightly. The wiggle room was just enough to keep him cool beneath his heavy armour... or enough to watch him struggle. 

The room itself was utterly nondescript: it was so dark it was hard to see anything, and the walls were beyond the dim circle of light that Starscream had affixed to the point of the ceiling where Megatron's chains were threaded. 

When he glanced up it seemed, unfortunately, a very sturdy set up. 

"Soundwave—" 

"Indisposed, I’m afraid," Starscream informed him smugly. 

Megatron paused. 'Indisposed'? Was that code for 'dead'? He clenched his teeth. 

From their long and often carnal acquaintanceship, Starscream knew Megatron's big heavy frame as well as anyone. He touched his seams and planes with the bold confidence of practice, even though he always returned to the space between his thighs where he panels were removed and his valve was bare. 

He wasn't rough there, either, although it might have been easier on Megatron if he had been. His fingers were feather light, stroking the sensor-packed mesh carefully and patiently. The light touches teased the many receptors buried beneath the mesh there, and in response they seemed to wake up and sensitise further, trying to track that sensation. 

Those sensors weren't made to be casually touched. That was what the panels were for—to protect them. 

It was…alarming. He showed Starscream his teeth. 

"Release me, and I may only _beat you into submission_ , instead of killing you outright!" 

"You have no power anymore," Starscream told him, gloating and pleased at Megatron's ineffectual struggles. " _I_ am the leader of the Decepticons now. My desire for power is as great as anyone's... even yours. And I plan to exercise my power to its fullest capacity." 

Megatron shifted uncomfortably with each patient caress to his valve lips. But he still felt his interfacing system—that sprawling network buried deep beneath the outer valve and spike and spreading in heavy circuitry in his thighs and belly and up to his spark chamber—becoming more active the more he was touched. The system drew fuel and other resources, flushing his living metal with oil and energon and becoming more sensitive with every new touch. 

"It's not your _desire_ I questi—uhhn." Starscream's fingers grazed something particularly sensitive. Megatron cut himself off in a tiny grunt. 

Starscream's mouth curled in a satisfied smile. "You always knew my time would come," he purred. His fingers rubbed deliberately over that same space again, and again Megatron jolted. 

After a second he realised what had happened: the activation of his interfacing system had rerouted energon to his valve, and now his anterior node was flush with power, glowing dimly but ever so obviously in the darkness between them. 

"Oh," said Starscream softly, and Megatron cringed inside to know he'd certainly seen it. "Would you look at that?" 

He flicked the node with one fingertip. Megatron yelped, shocked at the sudden blaze of sensation. 

He wasn't even sure if it had hurt, it was over so fast. But it had been a lot. Too much. 

Between his thighs, slick already with a shameful amount of lubricant, his anterior node throbbed in excitement. The little node pulsed a deep red, the same as his eyes, and in time with his fuel pump. It was extremely sensitive. 

"Stop this," Megatron ground out. His fuel pump was only going faster. It was hard to say if it was only anxiety about his current situation. 

Wildly, his processor tried to predict the immediate future. Was Starscream going to try to _spike_ him? 

Horribly, the calipers of his valve—thick, flexible bands of metal set behind the plush and sensor-dense lining—clenched and rippled like they were trying to milk the fluids out of a spike. It didn't even have the grace to feel bad: instead he felt like there was a yawning hole in him, hungry to be filled, and clenching down like that just sent a thoroughly pleasant shock through his interfacing system. 

He didn't know if Starscream noticed this rhythmic clenching and releasing of his valve on nothing at all. Starscream's deft fingers were already dripping wet. 

"No," Starscream said, implacable and intolerably smug in his gloating. "I don't think I will. My, Megatron, this valve is barely used," he added, causing Megatron to flush from head to foot with a sudden rush of discomfort and embarrassment. 

"Of course it is," he snapped. "I'm not accustomed to taking it up the valve like some—whimpering harlot." 

"Oh, but you like it so much," Starscream cooed, circling his fingers maddeningly around his anterior node. "Certainly I don't think _I've_ ever enjoyed valve stimulation like this. Are you going to overload? Just like this? Without even a spike in this poor, hungry little hole?" 

He dipped one long finger inside, giving those calipers something solid to cling to. They did, naturally, immediately, clenching down and embracing Starscream's finger tightly, rippling along its long slender shape. 

Megatron's face contorted in a wash of mortifying pleasure. He grunted and rocked into it. 

Starscream let him, for a few glorious, blissful moments. Then he drew his finger free. It made a slick squelch. 

The calipers went back to clenching on nothing at all, fluttering and constricting. 

"You'd love a spike. You're so little used, a minibot would feel massive. Would you like that?" his smile was unpleasant, sneering. "A fat little spike to make you feel like you're being cleaved in two? You're wet enough for it." 

"No," said Megatron, a flat denial. His voice was still his own. 

Denying it really did not stop it from being true, though. He imagined it even as Starscream said it, and in truth the only difference in his mind was— 

"No, not a minibot," Starscream smirked. "Something bigger. Something longer that can hit all those nodes deep inside. That's it." 

He dragged his fingers over the bright throb of his anterior node. 

That touch felt like lightning in his circuits, and his engine made a humiliating whine. Megatron's calipers contracted again at the sudden stimulation, violent in their frustration. He shuddered. 

"Is that what you want? Something long enough to reach your ceiling node? My fingers won't do it," he added, sliding his finger back in. 

It didn't matter that Starscream's finger couldn't reach that deep, because it could reach all of the shallower nodes, and _those_ made Megatron jerk on his chains and grind his hips into the touch. He knew he shouldn't. But he did anyway. 

But it also kind of _did_ matter 

"Do you want that, Megatron? Someone else's spike, shoved up in your hole to make you overload?" 

"No," Megatron snarled. His body felt so hot. 

"Good," said Starscream, laughing. "Because you're not getting one. You don't even need it. You're gagging for someone to play with your valve, and you're so desperate you'll overload whether they bother to spike you or not." 

Megatron's vents rattled. 

Starscream demonstrated by rubbing one fingertip along that swollen anterior node again, and Megatron made a strangled noise. The electric bliss of that one touch spread out across his interfacing system. He twitched and rocked, trying to get more of it. 

"That's it. Just like that, you stupid, desperate thing. Overload for me with your valve. Show me how you want it." 

But he didn't. Starscream returned to maddening little circles all around his anterior node, deftly avoiding a direct touch even as he shifted and rocked into his hand. 

Megatron's valve felt swollen. The circuits were crackling and heavy, the lining slick. There was lubricant on his thighs. He felt like every sensor in his valve was huge and craving, made fat with rerouted energon. 

Starscream let him hang there for long minutes, burning with shame and anger, and craving the relief and pleasure of an overload with every aborted little jerk of his hips. 

His fingers slid through the syrupy thick lubricants Megatron was secreting, skimming ever so gently across the exterior surfaces of his valve. 

At length, he finally—perhaps even accidentally—skimmed his flushed and swollen anterior node. 

Megatron arched, clutching his restraints. He clenched his teeth against a shriek. 

"I love watching your face like this," Starscream told him in an acid little hiss. His optics gleamed up at him, even as his damnably clever fingers moved wickedly between his thighs. 

Another tiny scrape of a fingertip grazed his anterior node. Megatron groaned and jerked, cables flexing hard in his pelvic joints. 

"You don't want to scream because someone finally touched your valve—and you especially don't want to scream for _me_. It's _humiliating_ , isn't it." 

He gave a long, firm rub, gliding fingers slick with lubricants, and Megatron overloaded hard—his visual feed glitched out, his limbs shook, he made a choked grinding noise deep in his chest. 

"It's alright," Starscream said, while Megatron was overloading so hard he saw nothing but static, "you don't need to worry about being embarrassed. Nobody's ever going to see you again." 

It took Megatron long, long seconds to stop shaking and trembling with the overwhelming sensation of it. He could still hear the soft hiss of steam escaping his seams. 

Starscream didn't stop rubbing. Where he had teased so terribly, now he gave too much sensation: the flat smooth parts of his fingertips rubbed over and over across the glowing little bump of Megatron's anterior node, until his shivers and grunts of mindless bliss became sharp flinches and gasps. 

It felt tight behind his node and it only wound tighter—too sensitive, borderline painful. He jerked. 

"Starscream," he got out. 

"Too much?" Starscream asked pleasantly, and did not stop. 

Megatron could not move his hips away. 

Starscream kept going, right through the twisting oversensitivity until Megatron's whole interfacing system felt like it was burning and he was yelling through his teeth, trying hard to thrash, and then more still even then— 

—another overload broke over him. The burning network beneath his plating squeezed down, hard. Sensation gripped him, seized him, wrung him out like a sponge until all the agonised pleasure of it was gone. He did scream, then. 

His limbs jerked. His processor went utterly blank. 

"Hmngh," Megatron said, at last. 

Starscream laughed softly, wickedly. 

His optics flickered back on, just to see Starscream licking his fingers, long and unnecessarily and showily.

He looked in his red optics and flinched his thighs closed, abortively—he couldn't move them. He couldn't close his panels. 

He was wrung out. If Starscream tried to overload him again, it would be nothing but pain and screaming and one brutal, mechanical overload after another. 

Starscream smiled like he knew exactly what Megatron was thinking. 

It turned out he did, in fact, because he pulled something out of his subspace and Megatron's fuel pump ran harder at the sight. 

It wasn't very large. Just a little thing, with a magnetic lock. 

It buzzed spitefully in Starscream's hand, loud against the metal of his plating. 

"Don't worry," he said, trailing it teasingly over Megatron's thick, heavily armoured thigh—he could feel the vibrations clean through his armour, right into his protoform, there was _no way_ — 

"This little thing will run out of power... eventually." 

He drew a circle around the overstimulated, bright glow of Megatron's anterior node with the powerfully buzzing little thing, careful not to touch. 

Megatron groaned through his teeth. It was too much. Too strong. The vibrations set the delicate systems there on fire, and they weren't even on his node. 

"Starscream," he said, raggedly, through his vents, "when I am free, I am going to rend you into your—ahhng—" the little vibrator slipped, grazing his anterior node, making his whole frame arch in a trembling line of tension and strain, "—nngh! into your _constituent parts_!" 

"You should worry less about 'when' and more about 'if'," said Starscream, with a confidence that made Megatron's tanks go icy cold. 

If Starscream was anything, he was a coward. What did it mean, if he had no fear that Megatron would one day free himself? Was it just his usual overconfidence? 

Why could— 

Starscream's smug little smile faded, presumably because he had noticed Megatron was no longer paying attention to his posturing. 

His optics narrowed with a soft whirr. "Am I boring you?" he wondered. 

Spitefully, he snapped the vibrator into place. 

Megatron screamed so hard his vocaliser crackled and fell silent, even as the noise of it still rang in his audial receptors. His interfacing system cringed and cramped, even as he overloaded wildly, the tremendous relief of grounded charge rushing through him. He felt his frame clattering and jerking, completely out of his control, and— 

—it wasn't stopping. 

If anything, it just got stronger. He overloaded again, a hard and brutal thing. 

Starscream watched him thrash through another three overloads, optics leaking and vocaliser smoking, before he finally turned the vibrator—not off. But down. Low enough that his node felt numb and needled, but he wasn't still overloading. 

Megatron's fuel pump slammed beneath his chest plates. His vents yawned. His fans screamed where his vocaliser couldn't. 

"Poor thing," Starscream cooed, insincerely. 

Megatron cracked open his fuzzy optics. He felt only half real. 

"Take it off," he said, vocaliser grinding. 

Starscream leaned in so close that it would have felt more natural to touch. 

"No," he said, very softly. He smiled. It was vibrant. 

For a moment, Megatron could feel the cool air whispering from Starscream's vents—except they were _vents_ , so it wasn't cool at all, Megatron was just in real danger of overheating. 

He let his optics shut off. 

Starscream's hands felt cool, too, where they gently caressed his chest plates, over the armour that hid his fuel pump and his tanks and down, down over the panel for his spike. 

He thought Starscream would go for that, next, but he didn't—instead he smacked the little vibrator, hard and sharp. 

Megatron jerked. It hurt like hell. 

...he was going to overload again. He groaned. 

Maybe Starscream was right. Maybe he was going to keep him here. Maybe— 

"I've got things to see to," Starscream said, interrupting this line of thought. "It's busy being the Decepticon Emperor, as I'm sure you know. Places to be, people to kill, planets to conquer," he waved one hand breezily. 

He leaned in again and Megatron tensed, anticipating another strike to that dull buzzing point of confused agony over his node. But he didn't: he just patted Megatron's face with one damp hand. 

"I'll leave you to it." 

And then he got up and walked away. Megatron called after him, to no effect. 

A door hissed. 

Then nothing.

Wherever he was being held, it was dark and silent. There wasn't even a drip or the hum of engines. 

Just Megatron. And the vibrator magnetised to him. 

In another twenty minutes of the dull buzzing stimulation, Megatron overloaded again, panting violently and all alone in the dark. 

And then again. 

And again. 

Starscream was right: it did run out of power eventually. 

But it took a very, _very_ long time. 


	2. Chapter 2

Megatron came to feeling sorer than he had in… probably thousands of years. Not since the war had he ached so thoroughly all over, and not even very often then. He had always been sturdy and heavy-duty, built strong to work hard.

He did not feel particularly strong when his processes came online. He was in his berth, at least, and knew from the wash of cool air currents over his plating that Starscream had left the doors open to their balcony again. When his optics onlined he saw it was well and truly light outside, mid-morning at least. He flinched, photosensitive. 

Trying to move proved to be a mistake. His entire pelvic span lit up with a throbbing, fiery pain. He grunted. His optics shut off automatically and he didn't force them back on. 

"You're awake." It was Starscream's voice. 

A cool hand pressed into his plating, between his shoulders and over his spark. Megatron sank back down. 

"You won't want to move until you've had some of this." 

Megatron turned his optics on again, dim and low. He squinted at the cube Starscream shoved down near his face. It had an electric blue straw. The smell of a chemical pain reliever was potent and familiar. 

He grunted again and with what felt like a gargantuan effort, caught the straw between his teeth. 

It still tasted as bad as he remembered, as tarry as it was dark. He drank deeply. 

It was clear when it hit his systems a few minutes later. He relaxed from his helm to his feet. After a second, he finally rolled over and levered himself up upon one elbow. His interfacing systems, and all their associated circuitry buried deep under his plating, throbbed quietly. 

"You look horrible," Starscream said, perfectly candid. He, of course, looked as he always did, these days, polished to a shine and pretty, with his optics glowing brightly in his dark face. 

Of course, he hadn't been tied up and overloaded until _well after_ he screamed. 

Starscream wrinkled his nose at the mostly-empty cube and set it aside. At length, he set himself down on the edge of the berth, too. His plating seemed cool against Megatron’s side. 

"How do you feel?" He asked, after a long pause. 

Fuzzy, thought Megatron. He blinked his optics: off-on, off-on. 

He felt alright, actually, aside from the aches and pains of his hard-used body. He sank back down onto the berth and let its padding support him. "Fine. Good." 

Starscream was watching him with a sharp, calculating expression, like he was weighing the truthfulness of that reply. 

Megatron frowned. "You went hard." 

"We went hard," Starscream corrected. 

True. And none of the hard lines Megatron had insisted on had been crossed, even if Starscream had been _inventive_ , within them. Megatron grunted. 

Starscream hummed, and then gently tugged at Megatron until he rolled again, once more prone with his face smooshed against one of the bolsters. Starscream's long fingers walked up over the thick span of Megatron’s back plates. The claws slid over his wax, without enough pressure to even mark it. He scratched down, gently, down, down, the long elegant curves of Megatron’s plating. He stopped before he got to his aft, then drew his fingers up and started again. 

Megatron felt something loosen and rumble beneath his chest plates. 

For several long minutes they sat like that, Starscream perched on one edge of the berth and slowly stroking his fingers down his back. Megatron’s engine idled in a weary, pleased purr, but Starscream was quiet. He usually was, when he wasn’t in flight. 

There was one point he _wasn’t_ letting go of, though. He tilted his mouth away from Starscream's soft leadvelvet bolster cover. 

"The part where you implied you'd killed Soundwave was all you." He hadn’t quite expected his own reaction to that, but it seemed like Starscream had. 

“Hmm.” Starscream's mouth curled, a gleam of pale teeth in his peripheral vision. His fingers slowed and paused, then tapped gently. "Verisimilitude." 

Megatron snorted softly. Feeling exhausted despite the long rest, he reached out and collapsed one arm around Starscream's waist, and then dragged his smaller, sleek body into the mess of covers on the berth, ignoring his half-hearted squawk of protest. 

He felt remarkably small. Starscream always seemed larger than he actually proved to be, once Megatron got his hands on him. 

Megatron hauled him in closer and tucked him against his own big frame. His entire interfacing system seemed to want to give a soft throb of protest, but it was dimmed to irrelevance by the painkillers. When he curled up around him, he was close enough that the soft, sweet-acid scent of Starscream’s expensive polish lingered in his vents. 

Starscream complained, which was, in general, how one knew he was still functioning: "Has it occurred to you, you ridiculous oaf, that I might have things to do today?" 

"Mmm no," Megatron said. It truly hadn’t, either, because Starscream had sat down next to him like he’d had eternity to keep stroking his back. But Megatron certainly knew better than to say it. After millions of years, Starscream was still Starscream—prickly. "You're retired." 

"I retired to _running the planet_ ," Starscream reminded him haughtily. "I can't take a day off every time you want to _cuddle_." 

He said ‘cuddle’ like he was confused and appalled by the shape of the word passing his external speakers. Yet he made absolutely no move to free himself, so Megatron curled up around him ever harder. He was always so smooth, slickly waxed and polished and satiny. Flight frames always were. Very... aerodynamic. Also, sexy. 

He rumbled, nuzzling his face into one of the tower vents on Starscream's shoulders. "Sounds like a bad retirement. You should see about fixing that." 

He was asleep again before he heard whatever Starscream said next, but he was pretty sure it was another complaint that he definitely didn’t mean. 

(Pancaked between Megatron's heavy bulk and the firm padding of their berth, with only his wing tips ticking out, Starscream scowled out at the sunshine and blew a long breath out through his vents.)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're getting to read this then I guess the warnings didn't scare you off, so I hope you had a good time. If you liked something about this fic, please consider letting me know about i in a comment? Otherwise, have a good night. :)


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